


The Shelby Girl

by imaginethomashardy (AndABottleOfRum)



Series: The Shelby Girl [1]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 23:18:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18376118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndABottleOfRum/pseuds/imaginethomashardy
Summary: Alfie meets an unknown Shelby





	The Shelby Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 09/10/15 on imaginethomashardy.tumblr

image  
Celeste’s Clothing

Celeste Shelby was the other younger, lesser-known Shelby sibling. She never grew much after her thirteenth year; the 21-year-old stood at only 5′3. The girl was fairer still than Ada, her hair was light, but her eyes were dark. Celeste was never as loud nor as impulsive as the rest of the Shelby Clan, save for Aunt Polly. She was quiet for the most part but spoke truthfully when needed.

Many a young fool had mistaken her for the naive type but she never wandered far from her brothers. She sometimes accompanied Tommy on his ventures, none the more dangerous ones. She was certain Aunt Polly knew just as much of the business as her brothers and their father, so when she talked, Celeste listened.

The Peaky Blinders were a force to be reckoned with. Tommy was the man behind the scenes, Arthur as the enforcer, and John helped out from time to time but just as important. Ada could never stand by what their brothers did but Celeste had just accepted it for what it was. The two oldest Shelby boys had their demons from the war to settle.

If Celeste was just a bit more cruel, she’d have told them it wasn’t working.

Of course this was when shit hit the fan.

When Tommy fled to the docks, Celeste followed more to care for him. Curly could only do so much. Charlie was just as concerned as she but once he’s got his mind set on something, there’s just no stopping him. And so the siblings spent 4 days on a boat destined for Camden Town.

“Is this dangerous business, Tommy?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Luckily for you, I’d like to think I do.”

Thomas Shelby offered his arm to his youngest sister, who accepted it.

A part of the man was just as apprehensive as Celeste but years in the business left him schooled with a poker face.

The siblings entered the bakery and were met by a man named Ollie. Celeste might have flinched if she thought her brother was in real danger. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been in a few fist fights before.

The was a gruff voice that came from the right. Celeste was a bit wary of the burly, bearded man the voice originated from but to be fair, it was normal to be wary of all the characters her brothers dealt with.

“Put ‘im down, Ollie, put ‘im down, ma’e. He’s only lit’le.”

The men didn’t greet each other, not really.

“Not any place a woman should be.”

Celeste may have tilted her head minutely but the sniff turned her head. She gave him the same withering glare that made even Arthur say a prayer. The young man’s expression faltered. She wiped her face of any emotion as she turned her attention back to the two men in front of her.

“I couldn’t very well leave my sister…alone on the streets.”

“I s’ppose, then.”

Alfie Solomons , otherwise known as the Baker, made a quick study of the girl.

Celeste didn’t pay attention at first but then the man started talking about bread.

“We bake the whi’e bread, we bake the brown bread. Make all sorts.”

He turned to Thomas.

“Would ya li’e to try some?”

Tommy sniffed and threw a glance at Celeste.

“Alright.”

“What would you like, red or white?”

The Shelby man looked at the glasses before he looked up and gave his answer.

“Try the brown.”

“Brown, huh?”

Both men lifted a glass each and Tommy took a drink.

“Not bad.”

“ “Not bad”, eh? “Not bad” ?”

There was a pause as the baker leveled a stare at Tommy.

“It’s fucking awful, that stuff. Fucking brown stuff, it’s horrible. It’s for the workers, yeah. Now the white stuff, that is for the bosses. Come look.”

Tommy looked back at Celeste, who gave a bit of a side glance to Ollie.It was with some trepidation that Celeste continued following Tommy. Had it been Arthur or John or anyone else really, she would have rather been back in Birmingham.

Solomons opened the door to what Celeste assumed was his office. He stepped in but Tommy held the door open and extended his arm to usher Celeste in. She ducked into the room before Ollie could speak up.

In the next minute, the door was shit and Tommy took a seat in front of the baker’s desk. Celeste sat atop a crate, very much inclined to make herself seem invisible.

“I’ve heard very bad, bad, bad things about you Birmingham people. Tsk,tsk, eh? You’re Gypsies, right? So what, do you live in a fucking tent or a caravan?”

Celeste wanted to scoff but she could tell the comment ruffled him a bit. Their mother was Romani, after all. She watched him light a cigarette.

“I came here to discuss business with you, Mr. Solomons.”

Tommy wanted to get down to business. He wanted an offer or else he’d have to die in front of his youngest sister, unaware of her fate.

“Well rum’s for fun and fucking, innit? So, whiskey, now that, that is for business.”

The baker pulled a long-neck, brown bottle from his desk drawer; set it on the desktop but Tommy stopped him before he served either of them shot.

“Let’s talk first, eh?”

Solomons looked taken aback but quickly recovered.

“Suit yourself.”

He put the bottle back in the drawer. The office grew colder and tension was rising.

“They say you had your life saved by a policeman.”

“I have policemen on my payroll.”

“I don’t like policemen because policemen, they can’t be trusted.”

“Mr Sabini uses policeman all the time. That’s why he’s winning the war in London and you are losing it.”

His nostrils flared, resembling an angry bull.

“A war ain’t over until it’s over, mate. You were in the war?,” he slid his desk drawer open, “I once carried out my own personal form of stigmata on an Italian.”

The siblings listened as Solomons began his story.

“I pushed his face up against the trench and shoved a six-inch nail up his fucking nose and I hammered it home with a duck board. It was fucking biblical, mate.”

Celeste’s looked on with furrowed brows. The man was clearly, naturally unstable. His eyes shifted to her for a brief second before continuing.

“So don’t come in here and sit there in my chair and tell me that I’m losing my war to a fucking wop.”

“That war was a long time ago. You need to be more realistic.”

The drawer was slammed shut.

“ “Realistic”, yeah? Realistic?”

He looked from him to her.

“Your brother said “realistic” ?”, he inquired and he looked at her expectantly.

“Yes.”, she answered, her voice steadier than her heartbeat.

Tommy usually had finesse with these things. Celeste really hoped they would walk out of that place in one piece.

“Well, if you weren’t losing the war, then you wouldn’t have sent me the telegram.”

“Really? You forget your fucking telegram. The telegram just said, “Hello.” It’s very simple, you want to sell me something. What?”

He waited for Tommy to answer.

“We join forces.”

Alfie Solomons pulled a face.

“Fuck off. No! Categorical. Fucking ridiculous.”

The baker leaned back in his chair as Tommy leaned forward, rested his hands on the desk before beginning what seemed like a well-rehearsed speech.

“Mr. Solomons. Your distillery provides one-tenth of your income. Protection is another 10%. And the rest you make from the race tracks.”

The desk drawer opened once again when he seemed to be done with Tommy, who in turn, leaned back in his chair and sighed and inhaled in the same breathe before continuing.

“I know you keep a gun in the drawer. I know you keep it beside the whiskey.I know you offer a deal or death.”

Tommy chose his next words carefully.

“I know what I’m saying makes you angry. But I am offering you a solution. You see, Mr Sabini is running all your bookies off your courses. And he is closing down the premises that take your rum. And people don’t trust your protection anymore.”

A look of recognition flashed over the man’s face. He pointed a finger at Tommy.

“You’re the bloke who shot Billy Kimber, right? You did, you fucking shot him.”

Tommy stayed relatively still, leaned in but did not refute the accusation.

“That’s you. You fucking betrayed him, mate. So it’d be entirely appropriate to do what I am thinking in my head to you right now.”

Tommy remained calm but Aflie Solomons seemed to be a few steps from making the Shelby man into a casualty.

“I can offer you 100 good men. All with weapons. And a new relationship with the police.”

“Intelligence. Intelligence is a very valuable thing, innit, my friend? And usually it comes far too fucking late.”

Celeste saw the gun that appeared, pointed at her brother’s head, the hammer’s click resonating in her bones. Tommy sat up.

“Let’s say I shot you already, right, in the fucking face.”

It was Tommy’s turn to furrow his brows.

“And the bullet goes bone, mush, bone, cabinet over there. Which is a shame, innit, cos that cabinet’s fucked now and I got to get shot of it.”

He looked at Celeste.

“So, what I’d do is this It’s fucking simple, mate.”

The gun’s hammer clicked once again before it was set on the desktop. Celeste was surely going to rip into Thomas after this.

“I cut that cabinet in half, don’t I? I do I just literally I cut I cut the cabinet literally in half, mate.”

“And I take one half of the cabinet, all right, and put it into a barrel and I take the other half of the cabinet in all its pieces and I put that into another barrel, right? And I send this barrel off to Mandalay. And the other barrel off to somewhere like I don’t know Timbuktu. You ever been?”

“No.”

“No? Would you like to go?”

“No.”

“He’s fucking insane, Thomas. I swear I’ll kill you my damn self when we get back to Birmingham.”, Celeste spoke to her brother in their mother’s language.

“Celeste.” Tommy warned

Alfie Solomons continued on.

“You know, I always thought that you’d have a great, big, fucking gold ring in your nose.”

“I’m sorry, go on. Tell us your plan.”

Alfie Solomons watched the Shelbys leave.

He motioned for Ollie and the young man appeared at his boss’ side.

“I like the Shelby girl. Let the boys’ know, tell them she’s mine.”

“Her name?” Ollie asked.

“Celeste Shelby.”


End file.
